


His Call

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is not good at waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the prompt: Gay marriage is legal in Washington D.C. Jack lives in Washington D.C. Take it from there.  
> For the Prompt-a-thon at the DW jdficathon comm.

Jack washed the dishes, watered the Boston fern that had been a house-warming gift from the Vidrines three years ago and sorted the recycling. It was only when he started re-arranging the cereal packets in the kitchen cabinet that he realized exactly what he was doing.

The sudden splurge of domesticity was diverting attention from the fact that his cell phone hadn’t buzzed yet and he really wanted his cell phone to buzz. It should have some time ago, if the answer that he hoped for was coming at all.

A watched pot never boils, his mother used to say. So he tried not to eye the phone where it sat on the counter, and instead he placed the Froot Loops behind the muesli and told himself that Daniel would approve. Eating healthily was part of Daniel’s master plan for him.

 _“It will counterbalance the crap you have to eat at all those Washington functions.”_

 _“But I like that crap. Sometimes, the chicken does actually taste like chicken.”_

 _“I care about your heart, Jack, even if you don’t.”_

 _“That’s good ... because it’s yours to care for.”_

 _“Jack ...”_

 _“Can’t help it.”_

 _“It won’t make me come to a decision any quicker.”_

 _“I’m not above playing dirty pool.”_

 _“Shut up and eat your muesli.”_

Jack closed the cabinet door and stretched. He ached. The chair in his Homeworld office wasn’t as comfortable as it should be. It was ironic, really. The operation at the turn of the year had sorted out his knee, now it was just the rest of him that screamed retirement every time his back twinged or his shoulder muscles seized.

 _“Ow.”_

 _“Stop being a wuss.”_

 _“That ... hurts.”_

 _“If doesn’t hurt, it’s not working. I need to loosen these knots. Jesus, Jack ... have you never heard of ergonomic assessments in the workplace?”_

 _“It’s the damn chair.”_

 _“Precisely. So get it set up properly or get another one. I’m sure the Government can afford it.”_

 _“Actually, scratch that. It’s not only the goddamned chair, Daniel. Stress goes straight to my shoulders.”_

 _“So relax.”_

 _“Kinda hard when your tenters are hooked. Ow!”_

 _“Sorry.”_

 _“No you’re not.”_

Jack settled on the sofa, stretched out full length, bare toes wiggling against the throw pillows. After work, he’d changed into gray sweatpants and the old “Fishing is life, the rest is just details” T-shirt he was wearing the night Jack and Daniel had become Jack _and_ Daniel after Edora. Not that he was superstitious. But if it helped any ...

 He had a Bud in one hand and Don Quixote in the other.  Daniel had read it in old Castilian, of course, and explained all about the “x” being pronounced like the English “sh” in medieval times.  Voiceless postalveolar fricative, he’d said, unaware that he’d slipped into lecture mode. And then he’d smiled and blinked and Jack’s dick had gotten hard.

Jack liked the story well enough, although his affections lay with Sancho Panza rather than Quixano.

He didn’t look too closely at why the ending made him want to weep when Daniel let loose with the spoilers. The world needed more men prepared to tilt at windmills. The world needed more Daniels.

He needed Daniel.

And fuck it but the phone still hadn’t rung.

He put the book down when he found himself reading the same sentence for a fourth time and still not taking it in. Draining the last of the beer, he crossed to the ancient stereo and rifled through the pile of vinyl until he got to Big Bill Broonzy. As the first notes of Worried Man Blues filled the room, he relaxed a little. The man always soothed his soul. Daniel had found the record at a fleamarket and bought it for him as a Leaving the Springs present.

 _“I can digitize it for you, along with the rest of your collection. Put it on an iPod, then it’s all yours wherever you go.”_

 _“I like my stereo.”_

 _“It’s out of the Ark, Jack.”_

 _“So am I, and anyway, I thought you loved old things.”_

 _“I do. And that includes you, before you ask.”_

 _“Should make your answer easy then.”_

 _“There are no easy answers.”_

 _“Won’t stop me asking the questions.”_

 _“Never thought it would, Jack.”_

The night dragged on. Jack lit the lamps and drew the blinds and downed his third beer. Broonzy was replaced by Ella and then some Shostakovich, just so Jack could lose himself in the complexity of the music and not think about the fucking phone not ringing.

He fell asleep around 11 p.m. and only stirred when he snored himself awake. Damn.  And he’d been so sure of himself when he’d denied his snoring to Daniel.  He made a grilled cheese sandwich and talked back at some annoying politics talk show.

And just when he was about to call it a night ...

“Jack.”

Not Daniel. He’d known that from caller ID, of course, but it was still a surprise to hear someone else say his name when the only voice he’d been expecting to hear, wanting to hear, was Daniel’s.

“Sir.”

“Drop the Sir, Jack. I thought the equal rank thing would have clued you in to that by now.”

Jack winced. He still wondered how his recent swift rise through the ranks had been received by the likes of Vidrine. A deeply serious, deeply committed serviceman, Vidrine had climbed the career ladder the hard way, and Jack admired him and all the others who had fought for their rank all the more for it. Jack’s career had kind of happened in spite of itself. He was not convinced of the validity of his own promotions, despite what his team, and more particularly, Daniel, said.  Even now, he still didn’t wear the mantle of The Man with total confidence.

“James,” Jack said, slowly.

“How’s that house plant doing? Killed it with kindness yet? I have a bet with my wife.”

“It’s still here. Photosynthesizing like crazy. I might eventually talk the thing to death, though. The nights are kind of long and lonely here.” He winced again. Might just have said too much. The short huff of laughter he heard down the line was something of a relief.

“Relax, Jack. He said yes.”

Jack worked hard on swallowing the relieved gasp that tried to escape him. He held the phone away and just breathed. In, out, deep and slow _.  He said yes._

“That’s ... good.” _That’s fucking great._

“He drove a hard bargain. All those years of drawing up treaties with alien worlds ... they paid off handsomely.”

Jack’s heartbeat refused to settle, his mind racing to untangle a hundred different thoughts at once. Daniel had said yes.

Vidrine went on, “He will choose his own personnel for drawing up the guidelines on taking the program public but is insisting on time to study the Atlantis database and on being allowed to go off-world when the situation demands it. He made some comment about the chairs in Washington being uncomfortable.”

Jack smiled into the phone. “Sounds like Daniel.”

“Actually, I was thinking how much it sounds like you.” Vidrine’s tone was lightly teasing and unexpected.  Not for the first time, he wondered how much Vidrine knew. His and Daniel’s relationship was private. Daniel was an intensely private man. The fact of their relationship was not Jack’s to divulge, even though they didn’t regard it as a secret per se, and Daniel had certainly never insisted that it should be one. Jack had long wondered how closely he was being watched for security reasons, even with the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.  He found he didn’t much care now. Because Daniel had said yes.

“The meeting broke up half an hour ago. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Meeting? Daniel’s in town?” He hadn’t said anything about coming out East. As far as Jack knew, he was in Atlantis, working on a newly-opened section of the city with some of his team.

“Wanted to talk things over personally, he said, and he had some business to take care of.”

“Thank you, James.”

“Good work, Jack.”

The line disconnected before Jack had the chance to say he had nothing to do with it. Daniel was his own man, who made his own decisions in his own time.

Jack relaxed back into the deep sofa cushions and ran his hands over his face. He felt tired but restless, sudden exhaustion warring with the adrenaline surge of Vidrine’s call.

The sound of a car engine idling outside drew him to the living room window. Daniel was paying the cab driver and hauling an overnight bag from the back seat.

Jack opened the front door and couldn’t stop the smile from forming as Daniel smiled at him in return, walking straight into his arms, bringing the scent of cold city air with him. Jack held him close, buried his face in the soft skin of Daniel’s neck and breathed in the night breeze and Daniel’s cologne.

They hung on each other, swaying slightly, saying nothing, saying everything.

Finally, Jack pulled back, holding Daniel’s at arms’ length.

“You said yes,” Jack said, smiling again. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

Daniel put down his bag and shucked out of his coat, throwing it over a chair by the window.

“Told you the answer was easy,” Jack grinned.

Daniel tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed but full of ... something. “It wasn’t. But it became easier when I answered another question in my head.”

Jack shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. “You gonna tell me what that question was?”

Daniel took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. “Nope, because any minute now _you’re_ going ask _me_ the question.”

Jack pursed his lips. It was too late for this shit. They should both hit the sack, get some sleep, some early-morning loving before Daniel flew back.

“Come on Jack,” Daniel said, voice teasing a little. He started rolling up his sleeves.  He hated the formality of suits and always seemed to be become more _Daniel_ when he shed them _._ “You said you wouldn’t stop asking questions.” Daniel went very still, his eyes intense and mesmerizingly blue and fixed unwaveringly on Jack’s, “So ask the one you’ve been avoiding asking.”

Jack’s mouth went dry. How did Daniel know? He’d been so careful not to put pressure on him, not wanting him to have to say yes to the job because he’d say yes to the other thing.  Because he wanted him to say yes for all the right reasons.

Jack swallowed hard, and from somewhere he found the breath to say the words.

“Marry me?”

Daniel’s face lit up like Christmas, his smile wide and an irresistible mixture of shy and delighted. His eyes softened and turned misty. “I was wrong,” he whispered. “Some answers are easy.”

Jack reached for him, needing to touch so badly, and pulled him in for another embrace. And as their bodies pressed and fitted, just as they always did – circuit closed, last piece of the puzzle slotted into place -- Jack felt Daniel’s lips whisper yes, yes, yes against his throat, his jaw and finally his mouth.

Daniel had said yes.

ends


End file.
